OVER TO YOU - Afterlight (Part I)
by DogheadedScorpion
Summary: It's been years since the Lost Light was decommissioned, and after a long and arduous process Megatron's trial is over: The sentence's been given. With a day left to say whatever's on his mind, he might as well take the time to chat with a friend...
1. Chapter 1

Heavy steps echoed endlessly against the walls of the dark corridor, giving the plummeting silence around them extra weight.

Minimus had been especially quiet tonight, as they walked back from the briefest of sessions with the jury taking his case- the last installment of Megatron's trial. Admittedly, the former warlord hadn't expected his friend to be cheerful in the face of such events, but at least he had hoped the mech would find relief in the culmination of this affair- especially so after the arduous dozens of years it had taken to reach a proper verdict… paying attention to every last crime he had committed.

The accused certainly felt it that way.

Old and experienced in the matter, Megatron knew well how harmful silence could be. Courted by solitude, with only his thoughts to contrast the stagnant atmosphere... _That's_ how the former miner had gotten to where he was right now. Ever since the seed of doubt- of truth - had begun to grow within his spark he had often wondered if the past four million years could have been avoided had he been surrounded by critics instead of followers, had he been faced with the reality laying behind the fortified walls of countless command rooms.

But no- this idea was mistaken still, since once again he was resting the weight of responsibility in others.

Hundreds of thousands _of millions_ had been shouting their opposition from the very beginning, until the end. Like an armor of barbed wire, he had worn pain and hatred raw on his plating, on his very mind, to keep every last soul out of reach- to assure _continuity,_ to secure the culmination of his entropic march over the universe. Only when it crumbled down to pieces was he able to listen beyond silence. Only then was he able to understand... When it was already too late.

Megatron was the only crafter of his fate: that was true _way back then..._ and was true still today, for better or worse.

 _He deserved worse._

The soft _ding_ of the elevator doors closing was enough to bring him back from his forlorn thoughts. The old warrior looked over at his friend, once again trying to find the turquoise optics- and what was happening behind them. For such a big target, Ultra Magnus' face was particularly evasive this midnight. Still, the warlord could almost feel the tension contained behind the thick metal of the blue-white armor- like a caged beast. As seconds turned into minutes, and silence threatened to eat his spark alive, Megatron made an attempt to open communications with his friend.

"...That went well." He commented, hands cuffed at the front of his body. He imagined the lack of a retort indicated his tone wasn't clear enough, so he continued. "I certainly wasn't expecting to be this lucky."

"..."

"...Of course, it's all thanks to you. Without your stellar performance as orator for my defense, I'm certain things wouldn't have gone even remotely as smoothly. But we got what we aimed for."

"..."

"Thank you, Minimus."

The massive knuckles of Ultra Magnus' fist cracked the elevator's display, stopping the lift in an instant. The sudden locking of all rails holding the metal box caused Megatron to stagger, holding himself on the mirroring doors as a silent alarm covered the room in flickering red. When he managed to look over, the blur of the mech's twisted expression was enough to shake his mind like a cut wire.

"Minimus? What's-"

The replicas of a memory flashed on his brain-module as the bot lunged forward. In a million years would Megatron have expected to find himself in this situation again, surrounded by those massive arms in a tight embrace. He found his own arms tried to tear the cuffs open, if only to return the gesture.

But as sudden as this move was, the madness had just started: when his dumbfolded frame creaked against the Magnus armor, and that white metal of the nearing face brushed against his... _that_ was the moment Megatron sincerely wondered if he wasn't already dead, this being just a last wishful ripplet of his fading mind.

The desperate sadness on those light-blue optics as their lips met erased all suspicion of this being the case- along with his hesitation.

A part of his spark he had been denying in favor of some last days of peace flourished on the prisoner's very plating, pushing his arms up to hook his beloved close, breathing his scent to drown in it. Magnus clutched him, pushing against the wall as if he wanted to combine with the Decepticon leader. If it hadn't meant damnation for the former enforcer, Megatron would have wholeheartedly agreed.

In other circumstances - another time, another place - the old cybertronian might have considered this impulsive action as something proper of a _younger_ mech- fitting for someone of less stature than that of the former Dully Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord Minimus Ambus. But stuck in the present and grounded by the abyssal itch of his spark, Megatron could do nothing but thank the universe for this instant of closeness- this imperfect moment of uneasy touch and personal, _intimate_ need they shared.

For a second, at least, they managed to forget about everything: there was nothing but their trembling metal in this world, the warmth building between their hidden sparks as they desperately tried to reach each other- nothing but the intoxicating realization they were united at last.

No war, no factions, no sides.

No rules, no limits, no judgments.

No past…

…and no future.

Megatron was faced with a last impossible decision: constricted by the growing reality of the world, he had to use every last grain of determination he possibly had to push Ultra Magnus away.

"Minimus," he began at a palm's distance from the mech, as much as he had managed to breach, "I know there's no cameras in this elevators, but given the context this is still too risky for you to-"

"I _can't_ do it, I _**can't…**_ " Mumbled his friend, pressing his face on the prisoner's shoulder.

"Minimus…"

"I _can't_ hand you _over_ to them."

After all this time, the warlord was finally able to place the tremors shacking the Magnus armor as if it was made of paper. He allowed himself to press that sapphire helmet he knew every contour of closer to himself, before pulling the white face up.

"You have to."

There was reproach on those sad turquoise crystals that where Minimus' second eyes.

"This is not- It is not fair." Scrambled the mech, and his own face twisted at the senselessness of his argument.

"...It is not fair to _you_ , I am certain of that." Continued the Decepticon leader, running an idle thumb on the bot's cheek. "After all your righteousness, that you shall suffer- but that was our mistake… _My_ mistake. This was bound to happen. Don't you think it's fitting?"

The Magnus armor stirred back, holding on the wall. At least pain was residing a bit in favor of anger.

"Prowl is sitting there judging you, Megatron. _Prowl_."

"* **Sigh** * … I admit that _is_ a little unsettling. But as I understand it, he was the one better fitted for the job- at least the one _left_. The present representative of Cybertron lacks the… _background_ knowledge to precede my judgment, and the other person capable of carrying on with this affair is in charge of my _defense_ , so…"

"Do you know what he's done? He _should_ be judged if justice is what we're talking about."

"The process has been appropriate, you have seen to that. The end result is not less relevant only because _he's_ the one stating my sentence out loud."

Magnus looked away, covering his mouth with a shaking hand. If anything, Megatron was concerned with the strange flicker on his optics.

"...Is this justice? Is this what I've been holding as a beacon all along? If this is justice then I don't believe in it anymore."

" _Come_ now, Minimus. You're _upset_ -"

"UPSET? Perhaps I'm just _done_. I have to stand to that _criminal_ gloat from his high throne around the other races as if he's the embodiment of fairness, when he's never even _regretted_ the horrors he's-"

"Regret does not change what we have done."

"Regret changes _everything_." Stated the blue-white mech, and for the first time in all night, his voice was unweaving. " _You_ have changed. Whatever you were before, now you're a _good_ _man_. When I think about all _things_ you could accomplish now- You could give _back_ to the universe, you could make it so much better-"

"After searing it forever." Interrupted Megatron, with a light, humorless smile. "I am one of the _greatest genocides in existence_... You can't simply _undo_ that."

"You'd have an eternity to _atone_."

"Absolution…" This time around, the warlord couldn't help but draw an empathic expression on his face. "I've extinguished races. I've erased planets from existence. As long as I live, I could do it again."

"I don't believe that."

"Many others are _certain_ of it."

"You're telling me you must _die_ -"

"To kill the monster within, yes."

The red alarm faded in the crammed space, lights returning to normal. Magnus' face was clear as day this time around- defeated, hurt, and more than a little hopeless.

"And I have to be the one to deliver you, to submit you to those that loathe you. Even when they barely know you."

"They know what I've brought upon them. And _I_ think that's fair enough."

"If… If at least this meant anything will be _better_ … But nothing will. There's no point to this."

"You know that's not true, Minimus. Closure for billions is more than just a point."

" _Blasted hell_ _…_ "

Trying to show respect for the turmoil shacking the Magnus armor from its very core, Megatron turned his optics to the floor. For all the words he had learned to use and deploy, the poet couldn't think of a single one good enough to ease the storm on Minimus' spark. Still, he felt like he had to try, even with the crudest of retorts.

"Minimus…" He began, lightly, grabbing at the mech's shoulder. "…I tried to kill you. Do you remember?"

The whole thing seemed to have occurred in another life, another universe- but still every second was etched onto the warlord's brain-module, imprinted with the ever burning horror of what could have been of the present day if he had actually-

"…Yes. I do." Was the simple answer, as the bot moved a step closer. "We were at war. Opposite sides."

"I tried to kill _you_ , Minimus. And the only reason I didn't succeed was because I wanted to use you as bait, leverage." Megatron took a second before continuing, closing his optics to wash away the picture. "If death is the only way to assure I'll never go back to be that person again, then I'll face it gladly."

Those white hands slowly reached for his arms, lightly pulling the prisoner close enough to rest the heavy helmet on his.

"You shot me back then…" murmured Minimus, quietly, through the distorting voice synthesizer, "…and now you embrace me. Does it really… mean nothing at all? In this world?"

Megatron closed his restrained hands on his beloved face, disengaging his optics as his spark rioted within his chest- threatening to sparkle out of his red lenses.

"…It means everything." He managed, a jarred whisper under the shadow of the one he loved.

But as soon as words begun their way out the warlord's mouth, Magnus' internal comms ringed with an external call. Unwilling but unable to scape it, the mech responded.

"Everything's _alright_ …" He answered, voice devoid of emotion, heavy on the edges, "Just a little setback… _Yes_ , he's secured still. Send the lift along."

The moment his handler was done with the call, the cage they were in shook to the sides and resumed its journey to the prison cell that would be his last home. This idea inevitably brought the Lost Light to Megatron's mind: how he wished he had not witnessed its destruction. The thought of it traversing the stars forever would have soothed his soul in the loneliest hours to wait until the end.

"…Promise me you won't do anything rash." Blurted the prisoner, looking forward to the door.

"I never do." Answered Ultra Magnus, voice stilled as the metal planks slid open.

"I know. I just had this feeling…"

But the warlord cut himself short this time around: they were back in the secured corridors, watched over by a dozen invisible eyes every step of the way. Even _suggesting_ a possible unexpected reaction from his handler could get him in trouble. Sadly, the time for open, careless honestly had passed.

Once again, they walked down the hallway in deep silence, every step taking them closer to the small cell that had been Megatron's world the last dozens of years. As the atmosphere seemed to get darker, the prisoner found himself relieved once again, knowing that this was the last time he would return to such a place. Still, he would have sworn that their pace had steadily slowed down the closer they got to their destination.

After passing numerous locks and guards, the warlord was behind the well-known bars again. The sense of stagnation heavy over his shoulders.

"Listen, Minimus…" He began, as the mech detached the magnetic cuffs off his wrists, "…You don't _have_ to be here, tomorrow. You've already done more than enough for me. I know this is-…"

Megatron took in a breath he didn't really need as a mechanical being.

"It is ok. It _will_ be ok. And, in any case… I couldn't have imagined a better farewell than the one you gave me, even if I tried."

As the warlord sat down on his slab, Magnus rested a last hand on his shoulder.

"There's plenty to organize- but I'll be here, I promise." He answered, dryly, voice wavy on the sides. "Goodbye, my friend."

"Goodbye, Minimus…"

And then, in what felt like a blink of an eye - in what could never _ever_ be long enough to satiate his lonely spark – the mech he loved, the person that he would live for, was gone.

The prisoner took a while to move, thoughts still ringing with urgency on his mind. "I love you" he had forgotten to say, even if he had drawn it with his lips during that embrace that seemed to have happened a million years ago- mere _seconds_ ago. "I love you" he forgot to say a million times and more, because he should have said it, because there was no longer time and time and space where warping within his frame like a twisted multifaceted monster.

Megatron rested his helmet on the wall, relaxing his weary armature against the cold surface.

They had shared more than he had hoped they would in this ending world. He was grateful for it- but not to an invisible force or a higher being watching from above- not in the usual sense, at least. He was grateful to Minimus Ambus: grateful for his kindness, his fairness, his mere existence and the ultimate oasis he had provided to this wrecked, damned soul. He was forever grateful for his love, and that would remain with him right until the end.

There _must_ have been something worth _anything_ within him, if Minimus had loved him.

/

Megatron was an avid thinker. Over the course of his life, he had been faced with the fact that time and time again a simple thought - well considered, properly nurtured – could reshape the world.

 _You are being deceived._

 _Freedom is the right of all sentient beings._

Thoughts that moved the universe, constructing and destroying an entire race, over and over again.

He considered it was a nice change to be thinking of friends instead of the next five moves he could take.

He found himself thinking of Drift, the wise young bot that had been brave enough to open a path towards redemption. He thought about Ratchet, the mech he had tried to murder countless times, the one he had _kidnapped_ a fair number, too… The same bot that patched him up over and over, without a flinch. He thought of Rodimus, his captain, that bashful and sometimes _infuriatingly_ bright light he had almost extinguished once, that he had grown fond of; He thought of Ravage that guided his steps even now, of Soundwave and the words he never got to say to him, of Terminus and Orion and Impactor and even Starscream… A myriad of faces fitting on his little cell, people that had believed in him, that had followed him- that despised him, that had dedicated their lives to stopping him. Eons of stories, built in blood and hope and regret, all laying bare in front of his optics to see.

Time was a peculiar thing, he was used to it by now. Megatron felt he had waited forever for someone to come take him away- but the moment the voice echoed inside the enclosed room, that same eternity seemed to occur in the blink of an eye.

"It is time, prisoner."

The stocky guard turned off the laser bars, gave half a step inside and placed the cuffs on his wrists.

"Stand up now." He commanded, the usual callousness on his demeanor.

Megatron followed line without protest or resistance, walking behind the mech towards the main corridor.

This bot in particular used to be a Functionist soldier, therefore he had also been his enemy- although for once the warlord had been on the right side. Despite the time passed and the new world he had found himself in, however, this mech _still_ kept a kind of grudge against the revolutionary. Regardless, in general the guard had been professional on his treatment, and the prisoner couldn't expect more.

At this point it was ridiculous that he would be surprised about it: but as the figure of Minimus Ambus made it into his field of view – the _actual_ Minimus, no Magnus armor to be spoken of – Megatron couldn't help but draw a wide smile on his old face.

"Megatron." Said the smaller mech with a nod, his unfiltered voice a kind, tuned melody.

"Minimus." Answered the warlord, slowly stopping in front of him as to not alert the guard. "I wasn't expecting to properly see you before…"

"I told you I would be here, and I am." Continued the bot, walking next to him. "I like to keep true to my word."

"I know, my friend, I know. However, are you certain you won't have a problem with the jury over this?"

"If they have a problem then they'll have to deal with it." Commented the bot as they neared the elevator, with a very proper tone. "This is who they've been talking with all this time. _This_ is _me_ , for better or worse."

"For _better_. _Always_ for better..."

Perhaps it was a little shameless, but Megatron traced every line of the green-white frame with his optics, memorizing each angle and reflection on Minimus' armature one more time. This way, if the final moments of his life proved to be as grim as he imagined, then perhaps he would be able to close his optics and picture _this_ until there was no longer a brain to construct an image.

Through his careful observation, however, the Decepticon leader realized the weariness on his friend's factions. The usually smart optics had a dull light to them, and the perfect stance was a little crumbled on the shoulders.

"…I take it you didn't sleep." Commented the condemned as they stepped inside the lift, this time watched over by the persisting guard.

"There was much to do for such a thing." Was the quick, tired answer. "Still, I doubt I would have been able to shut down my brain even if every single thing had been dealt with before now. So I guess I'm grateful for the distractions provided."

"…I'm sorry to hear." He said, wishing for eleventh time the guard had taken a different elevator. "…It will be over soon."

"And I should be happy about that, isn't it?"

Minimus' lazed hands creaked for a moment, forced against their joints as the mech tried to keep composure. Megatron saw the smaller mech stir as if venting, closing his optics for a moment and crossing both palms in the back of his frame, sighing.

"Sorry. It's a dumb thing to say."

"It certainly is. But stop being sorry: they're getting what they want. Now you must leave your sorrows behind."

The guard changed footing, annoyed, but Megatron couldn't manage to get over his baffled self.

"You're turning into a rebel, Minimus." He found himself saying, for some reason amused to the core.

"Well, I _was_ a Crusadercon. Wasn't transgression a bit of a norm back then?" Answered the bot, turning to him.

That smile. That smile was worth every inch of this universe.

"I…"

"Yes?"

"…I think so. Yes."

"..Me too, Megatron. Me too."

"We're here." Declared the third bot present, stating the obvious as the doors slid open. "Move along."

The prisoner cursed this meddlesome guard once again. Still, at least their optics could carry the message across.

With a mostly practical brain deeply coded with survivalist instincts, Megatron's mind had relegated certain information to the deepest back of his self- _sparing_ him the madness this data would bestow upon him, at least until it turned too relevant to ignore. For instance, the warlord had not considered _when_ was the last time he had stepped into an open space prior to this moment.

But as the intense cold of Cybertron's midnight grazed his plating like an old friend, and the awestrucking cosmos bathed its light over the astounded mech, the numbers flooded his brain-module in a bittersweet wave of unavoidable truth: eighty four years. Eighty four years he had been away from the stars.

And under the endless white-dotted blackness of the sky above, the coliseum greeted him- filled to the brim with a silent crucible of people from all over the universe. Half the grandstands were filled with mechanical beings – his brethren, for sure – but the rest of the attendants where a number of organic races he was ashamed he couldn't fully recognize. He managed to make out the nebulans, some frainyans, a considerable number of temptorians… and thousands of humans.

Megatron couldn't make out much hate on the far away faces, almost blurred with one another in the ocean of eyes- but the weight of their stares as he came into view was the heaviest force he'd ever faced. It was almost like the pressure of sheer _acknowledgement_ held by the people united against him had increased the planet's gravity on the very spot he was standing on, almost throwing him to the ground.

 _Peace through tyranny._

 _Peace. Through. Tyranny._

How _blind_ could you be?

How _arrogant_ , how hungry?

 _How_ _cruel_?

"Are you alright?"

The tyrant managed to look down at his side, stunned. The crimson optics staring back where concerned, even when they betrayed the question with an obvious answer.

"It just _struck_ me… how small I actually am, is all."

"Move it, prisoner. The execut-"

"QUIET." Interjected Minimus, even when his sharp glare alone would have silenced the guard- and any other mech fool enough to imitate him.

"It's fine, Minimus. I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

In the center of the massive coliseum, representatives of the Galactic council that had acted as the jury for Megatron's prolonged trial had taken seat behind an extended lectern, awaiting for the nearing criminal in expectation, nervousness, and more than a little wearily. It made sense now for the warlord that some of the members had changed over the years: not many organic species possessed a life-spam long enough they could spend eighty years on their prime.

Before this select group was Prowl with a couple of guards, readying the machine.

It was very simple-looking, considering the contraptions Megatron had been hooked to over the years: a reclining gurney, very much like those used in clinics, with braces for wrists, helmet and legs- and a little table at the side with the rust container. A fleeting thought from a former self stirred inside the mech's mind: "You pretend to end _me_ , this mighty beast, this relentless spirit, with that shameful syringe? I am no dog. I'll die fighting before you humiliate me like that."

Quite fitting, thought the former rebel, that what he felt as his feet got him closer to his demise was humility, not shame. Death reached us all, at the end, whatever you were made of.

"Seems like your Decepticons won't be coming to the rescue this time around." Commented Prowl as he stopped next to the machine, with only moderate satisfaction despite his words.

"They have long outgrown me…" Answered the prisoner, simply. "…but I'm not surprised you ignore it."

"Whatever you say."

With a gesture of the Autobot's hand, the guards closed on Megatron, almost ceremonially, to guide him onto the cold rest. The two massive mechs made sure to have his legs secured before taking off the cuffs locking his arms together- a commendable diligence the warlord found strangely hilarious.

His mind was anxious, there was no denying that. For all the calm on his features and the overall detachment of his thoughts, Megatron had the certainty that he was _stunned_ , senses numbed in favor of control. He didn't want to think much about it – for the same reason, really – but the situation was certainly reminiscent of the time his brain-module had been tampered with, all those millennia ago, and he didn't want to allow a fit of violence right now.

If this where his last moments in this world, he wanted to leave at least with a hint of dignity.

"Megatron of Tarn, you have been found guilty of crimes against existence, including the eradication of species of sentient and non-sentient beings, planetary depletion, planetary destruction, system-wide colonization and purging, star harvesting, illegal genetic experimentation on unwilling subjects, tailored warfare, world-spread slavery…"

The list resited by Prowl went on and on- and having heard every last bit the past half-century or so, Megatron found himself temporally shutting down his aural receivers to contemplate. The condemned rolled his optics over the monitoring wires the guards were strapping to his chest, meant to show his vitals in the wide screens placed strategically above the arena's top ring, for everyone to check on his last beat. One little monitor even popped out from the machine at his side- probably with more technical information than the one presented to the crowd.

Unavoidably drawn to it, the warlord found himself turning to the side, meaning to behold his friend for a while longer. A ridiculously sharp fit of panic clutched his spark when he found nothing there, but a quick survey of his surroundings showed him a somewhat solemn-looking Minimus Ambus standing a couple of feet in front of him- arms crossed behind his frame, unweaving optics staring right at his.

A dozen new poems began to write on the prisoner's mind. _How_ he regretted not portraying a single one in a pad- at least one of the many he already had memorized for this brave, sublime muse. Now more than ever, Minimus _towered_ over him with his merciful soul.

"…Found guilty beyond doubt of the crimes listed above, the appointed jury condemns Megatron of Tarn to death by lethal injection. May Primus have mercy on your spark."

Once again, the prisoner felt the fleeting need to smile.

It was appropriate, perhaps, that this religious figure he had actively dismissed his whole life, which he had tried to _distill_ from cybertronian history along with the Primes, would follow him even at his last moments.

The guards began to move around him as the whole place was swallowed by silence. Megatron looked up to one of the monitors, not really focusing in anything at all, as he felt the sting of the first needle on the back of his helmet. The precise, surgical incision was barely noticed by his lifelong-built pain threshold, and the solution they were injecting now was merely meant to ensure a quick flux of the actual corroder later on- a merciful measure, one could say. But as the long needle slid deeper and closer towards his brain-module, the sensation was so sickeningly similar to the one from that dark room at Messatine so long ago, that the warlord found his palms shaking. He tried to _will_ the suddenly hectic rhythm of the lines showing his brain activity and spark-pulsing down, first focusing his optics on the spiking display far above in the screens, then curling down his digits as much as the restrains allowed.

 _Old_ fear was a _nasty_ thing: senseless and much quicker to spread than the solution _itching_ at his inner systems, it was quite hard to shake off once it had taken a hold of you. Of course, even now, the Decepticon leader wasn't sure _why_ it was so important to control those lines that where his life signs. They were there to _fade_ , where they not? To _appease_ the masses, to _satiate_ their hunger- to _reassure_ them from their fears.

This was happening. Megatron had come to terms with it a long time ago. Then why did it matter?

The silence was _deafening_ \- he could hear it filling his aural receivers with static as the machine kept on slowly flooding his energon lines with the warm solution. It wasn't surprising then, that he took a while to realize about the _voice_. Once he caught the murmur however, and placed its source, his optics where quick to push down despite his frame's angle. As he focused on the voice he knew so well, the tone washed away the noise on his radials, allowing him to listen at Minimus' beaming speech as he recited…

…As he recited - without a trace of doubt on his register, with his back set straight – his favorite poem.

Megatron listened dumbfounded to his own words- the words of a young miner that was also a poet, filled with hopes despite his position, an eternity ago- _his_ words rolling out of Minimus' baritone voice-box and echoing away against every wall in the stadium. The warlord couldn't help but _look_ , his readings steadying in a deep beating at the indescribable feeling flooding him as his dear friend gave life to this moment.

The first verse gave way to the second, and the lone, brave voice became a chorus, as more voices joined in. The baffled prisoner turned his optics to the crowd and realized many Lostlighters looked over him from the grandstands: Rodimus was easily picked from the masses, his colors bright as he sang along- but many others were gathered around him, following the poem flawlessly. Tailgate and Cyclonus, Brainstorm, Chromedome and Rewind, Drift and Ratchet, Swerve, even Whirl- all reciting in a modulated, measured echo of the words this damned soul had once written down in the world.

And yet the chorus turned to a Hymn, and Megatron's optics opened wide to the sight of thousands of mechs singing along his deepest thoughts.

The Stadium was filled with Decepticons – former and present – but he would never have imagined, even in the wildest of dreams, that after all he had done they would still have such a gesture with their once-leader. Perhaps, yet again, he had underestimated the heart of his people.

But even beyond the walls encasing this myriad of friends and "foes", the voices of a million cybertronians once native to the Functionist Universe – those he had risked everything to save once and again – filled the night sky like cosmic thunder. Clicker was present among his beloved crew – more precisely, the assembly of both Lost Light's and Last Light's – but given this whole ceremony was meant for those _wronged_ by the warlord, it wasn't surprising most of those who were _thankful_ to him would be left outside. The fact they still made their voices heard moved him beyond belief.

And all this, he was certain, had been orchestrated by Minimus Ambus.

"You flare…"

Despite the looks it would grant him, despite the disapproval of a universe, Minimus stayed truth to his beliefs. This wasn't a protest, it wasn't a revolt- it wasn't even meant to be a derision to everyone harmed by the prisoner's influence, as was made clear on the face of those who joined the chorus.

It was facing Megatron- facing the world- with _all_ of his deeds: everything wrong he'd ever inflicted upon others, everything good he'd ever done for his fellow sentient beings. The lives he had ruined and taken, the lives he had uplifted and saved- the people he had changed, for better or worse or both, all together here, all present at his end. He had committed atrocities, yes, but he had also saved worlds time and time again- in the other universe and in this one as well.

It was a gift.

It was a goodbye.

Minimus was perfection, a poem on himself.

"You flicker..."

Letting the voices fill his surroundings as he directed his optics to the firmament, Megatron didn't even feel the second infusion beginning its path down his systems. All his thoughts were with the fertile moon above him, life brighter than the stars themselves pulsing on the vast fields of its surface.

For what he'd heard, thousands had already been brought to term: _Lunarians_ , they were being called. Perhaps some of them were taking part on this requiem- one could only hope, although stranger things had occurred this day. His actions had assisted in their existence, after all, to an extent, so perhaps it wasn't such a crazy idea to have newborns joining on his last moments.

Maybe, in the massive scale of the cosmos, this mech's _good_ _actions_ couldn't outweigh his _wrongs-_ in fact, up to this moment, he hadn't had a doubt about it. But perhaps it was enough.

He _had_ changed. He had let go of the senseless hate, the burning pain that had consumed him and the world around him, warping the universe. He had let go of all of it, and then filled the void with hope, with kindness, with love.

He had been far from perfect, but he had done his best and perhaps that _was_ enough.

Perhaps _loving_ was enough.

Perhaps love was all it ever took.

As the light dimmed on his optics, and many faces took shape in the soft shadows - with old friends and people he'd forgotten rising their arms to him in a welcoming embrace - Megatron allowed one last thought to spark on his soul, one last "I love you" echo through his stilling frame as he pictured his beloved friend one more time. And then…

"…You fade."

/

…Megatron was gone.

The whole auditorium went quiet.

Prowl walked to the monitor, checked the time- then signaled the guards to undo all restrains and take back the needles.

"Megatron of Tarn has ceased to function." He declared, with his usual objective tone.

Not a voice was heard on either side of the coliseum. Minimus looked back for a moment and saw profound relief on the victims of the Decepticon march upon the universe- those who had survived or the descendants of them- and he understood quite clearly their motives and emotions, what his friend had meant with this…

…Even as his spark was broken.

It wasn't _that_ dramatic. After all, it had probably been this way since a long while ago, bleeding out in orderly-timed lapses of time – and some not so much – along the years. He had offered the last of his soul to the mech it had helplessly fallen for, and now he was… well, _devoid_ wasn't perhaps the best word, but it seemed fitting.

Now all the loadbearer had to do was live on in a way that honored what Megatron – the unredeemable criminal, the justice-seeking poet, his dear friend – had seen in him.

Ambus had arranged the handling of the body accordingly, for the posterior funeral – something that had irritated more than a pair of high rankers of the Galactic Council with their _own_ ideas of what to do once the tyrant was officially _done_ \- and now it was time to follow up with the next steps.

Rodimus jumped off the lowest ring of the stadium, walking closer as Prowl reassured the members of the jury: luckily, the rebellious reputation of the bot preceded him, enough so for the world-leaders to barely bat an eye at his nearing presence.

"Thanks, big guys…" He said to the guards, as they finished moving the inert frame into a simple coffin, "…but we'll take it from here."

The mechs gave a hesitant look to their superior in search of confirmation, as the rest of the Crusadercons present for the ceremony emerged from the nearest corridor. Prowl only nodded to them, moving his hand to call them closer. Rewind, Clicker, Tailgate and Swerve walked closer to Minimus as the rest – that sported more regular frames – pulled up the coffin.

"Who'd have thought the man weighted so much." Joked Brainstorm as they walked down the corridor.

"You kiddin'? The guy was built like a _dreadnought_." Continued Whirl, shaking his head " _I_ would know: Even cuffed I couldn't beat him."

"You telling me: I couldn't either- and he wasn't even functioning at the time!"

"Closer anyone ever got was Rewind, I think." Commented Swerve, a bit quieter than usual.

" _Ah_ ~ yes." Let out the clockworker, with a loud sigh. "Almost forgot about that. Good times."

"Wait, that actually happened?"

"Right! You weren't with us at the time, Drift. Neither you or Ratchet." Explained Rewind, plainly.

"But yeah, Rewind shot at his spark." Added Chromedome.

"And _I_ saved his _life_." Procured Whirl- proudly, but also slightly upset.

"…We went through a bunch together, didn't we…" Muttered Rodimus, unnaturally serious.

"Yes... That we did." Concluded Minimus, following the procession closely.

"He looked happy tho', didn't he?" Asked Whirl in a last, quiet utterance.

"I guess he finally made peace with himself." Hazarded Ratchet, calmly. "No doubt it's your doing, Minimus."

"Indeed. This whole ceremony you came up with…" Added Drift, sincerely. "I have no words for it. I can't imagine how much it meant to him."

"One can only hope."

"…Um, how are _you_ holding up, Minimus?" Question Tailgate, a light hand reaching a moment for the loadbearer's armband.

"I'm alright, when I'm busy. And luckily, there's plenty of affairs keeping me that way, at the moment."

"The new generation?" inquired Clicker, curious and hopeful.

"Among _other_ things, yes. Administrating Luna-1 is no easy task- not yet at least. But we'll reach the first milestone soon enough."

"That's good to hear. But, you know," Added Rewind, kindly, "Remember to take a break from time to time, ok? You're always welcome back home."

" _And_ at Swerve's, don't even doubt it! Same rules as always- but drinks are free for all Crusadercons."

"Thanks, friends. I'll keep it in mind."

"Wait a second." Beckoned a voice from behind the entourage. "May I have a word with you, Minimus?"

Prowl walked closer in his regular march as the group halted, not sure if they should proceed or not.

"A _private_ word would be best, if possible." Commented the mech as he reached the Loadbearer, giving a peculiar look to Rodimus and Rewind. Surely, he felt their glares trying to slap him away.

"…Very well, Prowl. Do bear in mind I have a funeral to attend."

"You sure, Minimus?" Asked Rewind, standing at his side. "Because if you want us to stay…"

"I appreciate the gesture, but it's quite alright. Make sure everything goes on properly, would you?"

"Of course, Minimus. Leave it to us."

The minibot quickly patted Minimus' armband and then walked away with the rest of the group. Rodimus gave a look back, but soon enough they had all gone.

"Always meddlesome, that one."

"What was it you wanted to discuss, Prowl?" Interjected the loadbearer, weary.

"I know you and I haven't seen eye to eye for a while, Minimus…" Started the strategist, optics looking to the roof for a moment. "….Primus know _why_ , given both of us have been working to enact justice for once. I guess I was expecting you to be on my side on this one-"

"Prowl."

"But regardless of our differing _opinions_ , I wanted to _thank_ you." Continued Prowl, trying to keep his words in check. "If it hadn't been for your help with Megatron, I imagine a number of things could have gone wrong over the years it took to get to this pretty _evident_ verdict. So even if you were tasked with his 'defense' I appreciate the _reason_ you commanded on the process as well as the control you kept on the prisoner."

"Megatron made the choice to face his deeds. I had nothing to do with it."

"Whatever you say."

"And, as far as I understand it, _you_ expected a _different_ result out of this trial."

"Well he's finally made it to _martyrdom_ \- Although nowadays it doesn't mean the same as a couple of centuries ago, luckily. Still, I would much rather have him locked for eternity in some unfathomable corner of the universe, of course. That's not been a secret. I suppose the Council was too afraid of looking _bad_ , but I'm fine with this outcome, regardless."

"I bet."

"You disapprove, of course."

"For a number of reasons."

"Why shouldn't _Megatron_ of all people have such a punishment? By now you know _very_ _well_ all that he's done. If you think I'm ashamed to say I'd have liked him to suffer _more_ , then-" Prowl took a figurative breath, then brushed the bridge of his nose, " _Look_. I am _aware_ you had grown… _fond_ of him over the course of your travels."

"…"

"Hell if _I_ know how that happened. Ultra Magnus was precisely the one person I would _never_ have thought would _ever_ speak a word to him if not to lock him up or smite him down. That says quite a lot about how incredibly _manipulative_ he actually was." Continued Prowl, following his words with gestures of his hands. "I don't blame you, by the way: That's all on _Optimus'._ Leave it to him to be so _naïve_ as to let that tyrant roam freely on a spaceship."

"…"

"Still, even if I don't understand for the _life_ of me _why_ you cared, as I expected you ended up doing the _right_ _thing_. And that matters. I just thought it was appropriate to let you know." The strategist looked down the corridor, turning his lips in a thoughtful gesture. "I suppose the members of the Lost Light suffered from the same affliction as you, hence this funeral thing. I didn't quite like the _intrusion_ during the execution, but you've all been quite the _rebels_ from the beginning, haven't you? Guess it's only fitting. However I _imagine_ you have considered what will become of the body once everyone's got their little _ceremony_. I have a number of science teams that would be interested in-"

"I copied the drive."

A moment of silence.

"What drive?"

"You know which: The one with all the information from Aekitas. Even if I didn't check the information inside it, I thought it was important to keep it, just in case it _magically_ _disappeared_." Said Minimus, looking at his hand. "The Magnus Armor had _amazing_ technology. It was easy to replicate it without leaving a trace. I imagined you'd give it a couple thousand looks before throwing it to oblivion."

Prowl looked to the tiled floor, arms crossed.

"…I see." He commented, unsurprised. "I guess I underestimated how _sly_ Ultra Magnus could be."

"Hm- No. That was me. You see, even after coping the drive, I had plenty of tasks to keep working on over the years, so I didn't really mind it much until a fair number of years _later_ , when a dear friend of mine told me a _number_ of things she had gone through thanks to your influence."

"I take it you're talking about Verity Carlo."

"Indeed. Then I checked the drive, but the data was encrypted- again, I should have seen it coming, especially from a system that had essentially been commissioned by you. But then a couple of decades back she sent me some interesting _keys_ she had found in the signal array you left for Springer back on Earth, and then it was a matter of time to have all the data flowing."

"She's _still_ alive? You went to bother an elderly human, Minimus? Really."

"She's doing quite well, actually: All thanks to your good friend Tarantulas. Or does Mesothulas sound better?"

"Can we cut to the chase?" Insisted Prowl, as if bored, switching footing. "What do you want?"

"Hm?"

"You clearly want _something_ from me. What is it? What do you want?"

"I sent all the pertinent information to Windblade, as well as the Galactic Council and a series of trusted people. Last night, to be more precise."

Silence.

"That makes no sense."

"I'm hardly surprised by now that you don't understand this either."

"Why would you do such a thing? What would be the point?"

"The _point_ , Prowl? The point is _justice_."

"Those crimes happened _eons_ ago, during _wartime_. You can't possibly expect-"

"Most of the crimes committed are _atrocious_ , _even_ for a war- actions that break the rules of wars themselves. But again: you already know that."

"Fine. So you'll accuse me of holding information that could have broken the Autobot movement in such a way it would never have survived past the resettling of Cybertron. By all _means_."

"Humans have a saying: people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

"What?"

"Autobot and Decepticon no longer _exist,_ Prowl. Not in the way you depict them… And the Aekitas data-cluster is only a _part_ of the reports I've sent."

"What do you mean?"

"You've done plenty of illegal things after _and_ prior the war. In fact you were a _fugitive_ up until Unicorn, weren't you?"

"You _can't_ be serious."

"I'm afraid I am. From unregistered hoarding of illegal weaponry, to attacking civilians both in Cybertron, Caminus and Earth-"

"You mean when I was Devastator? Is that what you're talking about?"

"You were Devastator's _head_ , yes. If they still functioned, the Constructicons would be judged as well, I assure you."

"This is a mistake- _You're_ making a _mistake_ , Minimus Ambus."

"That I'm not, Prowl." Began the loadbearer, as he walked away. "If I were you, I wouldn't try to leave New Cybertron in the next mega-cycle."

"He HAD to be PUNISHED! _MEGATRON COULD_ _ **NOT**_ _SCAPE HIS COMEUPPANCE!"_

Minimus stopped a couple of steps down the hallway.

"…I know. He crossed a line with his actions that simply couldn't be balanced back, no matter how much good things he ever did… whatever my beliefs." Managed the loadbearer, quietly, turning his helmet to the side. "The people he wronged deserved justice… and so do yours. You, and everyone that's been moving with impunity up to this moment- because of the crises hitting our universe, because of your power, because of your knowledge- have to face the same."

"What do _you_ know about my actions? It had to be _done_. Someone had to do those things so all you _righteous_ characters could go to sleep at night _thinking_ you still had the moral high-ground!"

"You're not past that threshold yet. You can still be redeemed. All you have to do is face judgment… and see the error of your ways."

"You're a _very_ _little_ man, Minimus."

"Lighten up a little, would you?" Continued the slender bot, as he turned in the corner. "Some of the charges are circumstantial I'm, sure. I wager you'll only go to prison a couple thousand years or so… But at least they will be two thousand years you won't have your dirty-clean hands pulling a single string of power: you'll be well away from my Luna-1 and New Cybertron."

" _I did what had to be done, you hear me? IT HAD TO BE DONE!"_

And the loadbearer could still hear Prowl's shouting as he walked towards the nearest exist.

Indeed, there was still much to be done.

/

It had only been five hours since Megatron's burial, and the place was already filled with tokens and light-rods. During the exchange Minimus had held with Clicker – the present representative of all cybertronians from the F.U – the bot had pointed out this park to be the preferred place for the burial. It was a small plaza with a free window of sky up above, a place that had served as refuge for residents during the times of the Functionist regime: it was relatively secluded, and the center – that had once held the statue of one of the councilors – now sported a simple platform reminiscent of those found in Necroworld. The dimly lit front showed a plaque with the pertinent information, and in front of this structure was the topping of the grave. Crowning its plain rectanglular cover where the shoulders of the Magnus armor, acting as a tombstone.

The entire area was illuminated by soft lights, and silent cybertronians kept coming in groups to lay their energon tokens and other items such as flowers and pictures. However, they all kept clear of the mech standing in front of Megatron's rest, out of respect.

"Minimus." Greeted the colorful mech, without looking back.

"Rodimus."

"…Do you want me to-?"

"It's all right." Answered the loadbearer, walking to stand next to his friend. "In fact, if you need more time…"

"No, no- I was just waiting for you, actually." Commented the bot, turning towards him, "I wanted to tell you we set the armor as you wanted: arms at the sides of the casket, breastplate and helmet atop the hatch."

"Thanks for that, Rodimus."

"Don't even mention it. We're all hitting Swerve's, by the way. Thought you might want to know, since we mentioned it while you were _stuck_ with _Prowl_ …"

"I see. Tell the crew I'll be arriving soon."

"Sure, no prob. Had any problem with that jackal?"

"Nothing I couldn't manage, don't worry."

"Hey, if someone knows how to handle this kind of types, that's definitely you."

Rodimus was about to leave, but Ambus stopped him by gently holding his armband.

"Wait, before you go…" Said the loadbearer, and before the mech's surprised optics, he pulled a worn, golden badge out of a compartment. "…Here, take this. He wanted you to have it."

The yellow hand hesitated, a light tremble running over it as the digits closed on the Rodimus' star. The former captain looked at the object in his hand, features crumbling for a moment into a poignant expression. Then his optics disengaged, and the usually bashful mech looked away, saving the badge close.

"…You know…" Began Rodimus, voice wavy on the edges, "…What Drift said was spot-on. This whole _thing_ you pulled out… I mean I knew how things would go when we made it _here_ , but you gave Megatron-…"

He paused, looking up to the stars, then staring back at Minimus, with a little smile under his sad optics.

"I know wherever he is, he's watching over us with one of those annoying grins of his." Finished the mech, finally, as steady as he managed.

"I think so too, captain."

The word, and the feeling it carried, was enough to take down the last of Rodimus' defenses.

" _Take your time…_ " Mumbled the mech, patting the loadbearer's chest before turning tail. "… _As long as you need. We'll be waiting for you._ "

The smaller mech watched as the young Autobot marched away, quickly making his way out of the open mausoleum.

"I almost feel like he was hoping for a miracle." Commented Minimus after a while, slowly turning to the grave. "This last years have been hard for him. After finally finding his place- I'll try to watch over him."

The slender bot let out a tired sigh, and went down on a kneecap, reaching for the echeloned burial ground.

"...It's done. I got rid of the armor, as we discussed. I don't know if you expected me to do it in this fashion, but I think you'd have found the gesture somehow poetic. At least I hope so… I wanted to tell you about another decision I've made. it turns out I still believe in justice: Prowl, the members of the Galactic Council that worked with Overlord, the war-criminals from Aekitas that still function, those who have broken the law- that have committed offences against others- I'll bring them to justice. Wherever I reach, I promise you I'll make sure those who wrong – whatever their faction, status, or origin – I'll make sure they face equity. No less… and no more."

Minimus stood up again, closing his optics.

"But not just for the sake of balance: I want my actions and efforts to save people, whether they're victims or aggressors- as many as I can. I will do my best to live accordingly to what you thought of me… what you thought I could be. There's still a lot to be done, both for Luna-1 and to cement this path I'll be undertaking. But wherever your spark wanders now, and wherever I go from now on, I hope you know a part of you is always with me."

The loadbearer procured a little bottle of energon and placed it over the plaque, along with a pad reading "Terms of Peace" at one side and "Afterlight" at the other.

"Till all are one, my dear friend. Till all are one."

Afterlight, part I - The end.

(Disclaimer?):

Hello there, hi! This is the first time I make public one of my writings. English is not my native language and, while I find this kind of activity entertaining and somewhat cathartic, I often doubt anyone else will get anything out of reading what I do.

In this case however, this story is actually meant for someone else- and whether it is passable or terrible, since the whole idea was born as a kind of "gift" or token, I find myself leaving it here.

If you enjoyed it: I'm glad! Hope it was worth your time.

If you didn't- What a shame! There's plenty of other stuff in this great site you might like, tho'. Better luck next time!

If there's any English _horror_ the corrector didn't manage to process, and it is slowly killing you- I'm sorry about that. But I'm open to hearing about it, maybe I can correct it? Let me know.

 _Also I suck at internet and its wonders, such as tagging/labeling and stuff so I'm really sorry about that too._

Dedicated to J. N. Wiedle:

I met Transformers' comics because of you. Long story short, I was going through rough times and while browsing your twitter (that I reached through Helvetica) I found some snapshots from Lost Light and MTMTE. I imagined what you depicted in your tweets to be a non-cannon perspective (I think I saw the one where you talked about a ship of gay robots searching for love? xP) but the images where enough to pick my interest and see for myself, give it a try.

 _…And it was all true._

Jokes aside, even to this day I still can't believe such an amazing thing existed out there - escaping my grasp - and having read almost all of IDW Transformers' issues (I'm probably exagerating) I can't say anything but thank you. Thank you for being the portal to this amazing word, thank you for sharing your thoughts about Lost Light and the Wreckers and everyone and everything. Thanks for your art, thanks for being awesome.

I wrote this as a "thank you" for all that. I feel like it ended up a bit more angsty than I wanted- and at the same time I don't think It is _that_ sad at all? I hope you like it! I'm also gonna write a little story about what happened in the "Quantum Universe" (one that is supposed to be _much_ more light-hearted) but that's still to be seen. Anyway, once again: THANKS!


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a _long_ party. It wasn't rare for Lostlighters to extend celebrations beyond the usual - or _reasonable_ \- standards. And, given the circumstances, maybe he shouldn't be surprised. But as his feet attempted to drag all the way to the elevator after what he figured was a dram-too-many of engex, Minimus couldn't help but feel that things had gone a _little_ too far this time around. Admittedly, not all responsibility laid with the crew: after all, by now he should know better than to accept a glass handed over by _Whirl,_ of all people. Maybe the general good spirits had gotten to him, perhaps the second in command had felt so _relieved_ to have this _astronomically-impossible chance_ that, for once, he had allowed some leeway to his own self. Whatever the case, despite the profound embarrassment he felt as his clumsy hand tried to reach that big button to call over the elevator, Ambus was quite certain he didn't regret a thing.

...Although that could be the engex talking.

Sometime in the middle of his contemplation, the lift's doors finally slid open, allowing the Magnus armor to stumble inside as its bearer produced a tired, sound sigh. The ample shape had crooked to a side, resting its wobbly weight on the good, reliable wall, when a palm prevented the door leaves to meet.

"Ah~ I was certain I would miss it for a moment..." Commented Megatron, as the gate reopened to allow him in.

His crimson optics flicked in surprise for a moment, at the mech's visage. Minimus straightened up like a spring under his gaze, trying to pretend normality.

"Megatron." He managed, without a tremble or a glide.

"Minimus. I hope you don't mind me joining you- we _do_ head for the same deck after all."

"Perish the thought. It is only reasonable, and I certainly hold no property over this contraption."

" _By the Blue Blazes what the hell was that"_ Thought the bot inside the suit, cringing at the ridiculous response. He was used to feeling that soft coat of nervousness when alone with the co-captain, but this was just _preposterous/embarrassing._

As usual, his companion managed to disarm him by means of a simple, chuckling smile.

"You were tricked to try Swerve's special punch, I see..." said the Decepticon leader, simply, as he pressed the button for the appropriate floor.

" _Tricked_ is a strong word... Is it so obvious, or do you speak from experience?"

"Oh, I've had my fuel-regulator locked on 'active' for a long time now. But I can still recognize the taste of Old Corroder with ease."

"I see. That seems like a useful... ability to have." Commented the reputable bot, his perfectly straight stance lightly swaying back and forth, to his dismay.

"Perhaps. But to be honest, since my range of experiences has changed, I've found that maybe you just have to let go sometimes."

For no apparent reason, the loadbearer's fuel-pump skipped a beat.

"I mean, the results of forfaiting control from time to time can be worth all the _unease_ along the path."

"As the one mech drunk here, friend..." Began the tall mech, closing his optics for a moment just to find his come-and-forth got worse "...I beg to differ."

Megatron turned to him, and the bot felt the pressure of his kind, harmlessly amused smile.

"Come now, Minimus..." procured the former warlord, and the uttering of his name made Ambus' plating prickle, "You certainly looked like you were having fun."

The Magnus armor's lips curled in a subtle grimace as its lenses focused on the wall, somehow feeling as if he had been put in evidence.

"I was." He admitted, looking back with a serene expression. "I also made a fool of myself."

Megatron's dentures came to view in one of those remarkable grins of his and the loadbearer felt his energon working up.

"Your singing improved everyone's mood."

"First of all," began Ambus, reaching for the elevator's display to make it open prematurely, somewhere in between the seemingly eternal ride, " _That_ was not 'singing', because this terrible armor's voice-box has been set in auto-tune to match Magnus' voice- and for any screaming to sound rowdy, if you can _believe_ that. Therefore I was unable to actually _sing_ as much as I _barked_. I _assure_ you I wouldn't even have _tried_ if I didn't consider myself a decent performer."

"I have no doubt your own voice would have made a remarkable melody for tonight's events."

"Second..." Continued Minimus a little breathlessly - all fault of the engex, no doubt - as the damned lift refused to respond, "...Second, they 'cheered up' because after how much they laughed at that dumb song it was unavoidable they would turn from happy to hysterical."

"You're being too hard on yourself. Drift enjoyed it- so did Cyclonus, and numerous others. And when Rodimus changed the track and you two sang along-"

"I would like to suggest a change of subject." Interjected the mech, defeated by the elevator's display and turning to the back of the outrageously small space.

" _Hm-hm~_ Very well. I actually have a question to ask you."

"Upon consideration, perhaps the former topic wasn't so terrible."

"A little faith, Minimus." procured Megatron, and yet again that register he used to pronounce the name made Ambus' spark tickle. "It is merely a popular inquiry that has been going around among the crew. Your take on it could be insightful."

"I'm not sure if that detail is very reassuring or quite the opposite... But we're already here, so as the saying goes, 'I'm all ears'."

The co-captain paused a moment, perhaps considering, before continuing.

"Tell me, friend..." He said finally, optics focused somewhere on the roof. "...What were your reasons to agree to this journey?"

"What do you mean?"

"You'd be surprised to know the _number_ of answers that simple question's got."

The loadbearer felt his second face squint at this supposed conundrum.

"...Do you really have to _ask_?"

His friend's semblance faltered a little.

"...I wanted to prevent myself from assuming. Without confirmation, any theory I had could end up being-"

"I did it for you." Stated the mech, simply and unweaving. "For you and for me."

Showered in the light of Megatron's baffled stare the Magnus' armor cringed at the words ushered off its own voice box.

"That was poorly phrased." He blurted, before _anything_ _else_ could fill the void of his argument. "What I meant was that it was best for each of us, separately."

 _'Somehow, that is actually worse.'_ He thought then, frustrated.

"I mean- what I mean is..." Said the bot, and if he wanted to be honest then he _knew_ he had to think about it. "...This was the only chance you'd get."

A kind, quiet moment. Ambus could feel the sweet glance of those crimson optics right on his helmet, and he had to make an active effort not to look back.

One of the things that characterized the former Enforcer was his capacity to multitask. Usually he was most proud of this ability of his, especially since it allowed him to keep tabs in many directives without compromising whatever he was doing at the moment. However when it came to the risky, improbable maneuver they had pulled to reach this universe, that useful trait had proved to be a curse as well. Minimus could remember the tense grip over his systems as the countdown got close to 'one', how he had only managed to keep serene by clutching his fists tightly at the sides of his frame. And even when the quantum jump succeeded, and everyone was caught in the sweet thrill of happy disbelief, at the back of his head Ambus had been unable to ignore the fact that, back at their original dimension, his other self was going through a disheartening realization. He _wondered_ even now, after the joy of camaraderie, despite the guilty – yes, it certainly was guilty at its core – relief that had flooded over his spark. He wasn't sure he would _ever stop_ wondering, but it was something he could live on with- after all, it wasn't the only uncertainty the loadbearer carried over his chest, nor the greatest of them.

"I would rather not think about it so soon after our departure from that universe, it isn't my intention to be gloomy... But I think on the trial, and- _**sigh~**_ "

"I see… But you surely had doubts? Even after serving on the Lost Light, you had a level of galactic respect only a couple of cybertronians in history ever held. Hell, not many sentient beings have been considered on such high standards."

" _ **Tsk~**_ _that's_ supposed to make me doubt?" Scoffed the loadbearer, crossing his arms and tilting a little too forward. "I pursued respect throughout most of my lifetime. And based on my experiences I would much rather be loved."

Again the word infiltrated his speech. For the fifteenth time Ambus promised himself he'd never drink again. Solid energon _only_ from now on.

" _Appreciated_. I meant appreciated."

"And you're _certainly_ appreciated here."

"I would _appreciate_ it if you would stop mocking me."

"I don't mean to come across like that." Apologized the mech, that smile he seemed unable to erase from his features trying to hypnotize the helpless Autobot. "I'm merely surprised how much it shakes you to drink, for once. Our interactions are usually much smoother than this. To be honest I'm... not very sure how to behave."

" _You're doing fine._ " Mumbled the loadbearer, holding his wobbly self on the wall.

What was this heat all of a sudden? Ambus had imagined engex to burn at different levels than regular fuel, but this was scandalous.

"Well good. Because I feel I have to thank you, Minimus... And the least I want is to upset you."

"Thank me?" Asked the mech, incredulous. "What for?"

"For everything... For what you said during the party, about considering me a friend." Megatron moved about, with a little grin. "I know you meant everyone, and maybe there was no need to _state_ it... But hearing you say that as you looked at me meant a lot. So thank you, mi dear friend."

Ultra Magnus felt his feet wobble out of control, as if he had lost all strength on his extremities. He even had to rest his helmet on the captain's shoulder, suddenly dizzy. His companion tensed a little over the sudden contact, surprised, but didn't move away.

" _You're welcome..._ " blurted the loadbearer, finally. " _Thank you for treating me as- for-_ "

"Minimus?"

"Why hasn't this elevator _open_ yet?" was the hasty, mumbling answer, almost like a whine "There's no way we didn't reach the deck in all this time."

The barely contained amusement in the former decepticon's optics made him pause.

"What?"

"You stopped the lift, Minimus."

" _What?_ "

"When you went to the board, you pressed the STOP button and-"

"By the Blue Blazes..."

"I assumed you had your reasons, like you wanted to talk or..."

"This is- this is beyond embarrassing. That's it, I'm done."

"Would you like me to-?"

" _Yes_ , yes please."

As the box finally resumed its ascension, despite his own severe words, the loadbearer found himself fighting back a laugh. That explained all this weird situation they had found themselves in, talking about these metal-tickling, _preposterous_ things, as if there was something _electric_ charging the air... It made him remember one of the many books dear Verity had discussed with him during their time together: _'A summer Night Dream.'_ To this day he recalled that title, even if the author or the contents had escaped his memory.

And poor Megatron had been caught in this bizarre moment. Ambus could only be grateful that the mech managed himself with such tact and grace. Only with _him_ could Minimus do a thing as foolish as this without worrying about his reputation, of being the object of mockery for months and months on end… The further back he looked, the more ridiculous the notion became, but it was undeniable the loadbearer felt safe with this mech.

" ***Sigh~*** And o think I expected to work on some preliminary reports back at my hab-suit - I'll be _lucky_ if I manage to get off this armor..."

"I could help you with that." Procured Megatron, nonchalantly- and when he noted Magnus' wide-opened, bright optics, he added, "With your reports, I mean."

The double leafed door opened with a little _***cling!***_ that sounded almost like a mock for the energon-stricken Ambus.

"Of _course_ that's what you meant." Managed the mech a little breathless again, stumbling out the confined space "What else could you mean..."

"It _would_ be nice to see you in your best form after so much."

"Call me crazy... But I'm starting to think you're saying all this things on purpose."

Megatron laughed a little grin, and Magnus had to suppress the dumb smile trying to crawl up his face.

"Guilty as charged…" Continued the captain, playfully, and Ultra Magnus had to shake his head to prevent a dumb fit of giggles. "It's just there hasn't been much time for it, except for that little while the armor was damaged by the C.U. troopers. And things where still... complicated back then, between us."

"It certainly feels like an eternity ago."

The two mechs walked down the corridor, headed for the hab-suit wing. It was strange that the ship would be so quiet. It was easy after festivities as the one still going at Swerve's, to forget how immense the Lost light was, how comfortably it fit her passengers. The only sound that moved around in the quiet was the soft rumor of the active ark, the kind _hum_ filling the background noise. This silence, however, was delightful: Somehow, even after the _ridiculous_ things they had said on the way here - mostly out of Minimus' inebriated synthesizer, he had no doubt - the loadbearer felt a joyful ease within his plating, almost a delirious happiness.

Probably the engex all over again.

"Well, here's where we part ways, Minimus." Said the poet, his rich, deep voice gently filling the space between them, "And try to take it easy with your work. We've got all the time in the world."

They had reached the cross-hallways. Megatron's hab-suit at one direction, Ambus's at the other.

" _All the time in the world..."_ Thought the loadbearer, facing the path before him. Somehow, a thought began to form on his mind- or did it come from somewhere else? His chest was particularly warm at the moment, he felt, and he wondered for a moment if he was drunk at all. His lack of control over the armor would _indicate_ so, and yet this had happened once before, hadn't it? An eternity ago, back at the Necroworld. The imprint of his mind had stopped to work with the locks on the Magnus armor. Could this mean a deeper change on his self? Only time would tell. Whatever the case, the idea that had popped-up on his mind had too much weight for him to ignore it. If he _had_ wanted to ignore it.

" _Or..._ Maybe you _could_ help me with the reports. Make sure I don't mess something up."

Megatron stopped on his tracks.

"…Of course. And since we're at it, you could tell me about that book you were writing- Terms of Peace, is it?"

"You heard about that?"

"Cyclonus mentioned his interest on having a copy, once you finish it. He couldn't tell me much about it however- except for the fact it _wasn't_ a poem. He seemed pretty adamant about that."

"Well," Continued Minimus, signaling the appropriate corridor, "You're in luck- I could use some input about it. Once we're done with _work,_ of course."

"Wouldn't expect less, Minimus."

Ambus was still taken by how everything had turned out. Admittedly, the mech had been feeling like he was traversing a dream since the moment the Lost Light had been replicated in this new world. He wasn't sure he would ever stop feeling like this... But it didn't really matter. He could get used to joining his friends at Swerve's, used to cataloging and registering anything this new universe could house, used to wearing his own plating and most importantly, he could very well get used to having someone at his side.

Certainly, Minimus could get used to all the marvels this second chance would grant him.

Afterlight, part II - The End.

 _/Welp!_ That's the end of Afterlight. Took me a million years, probably because the idea for this part was much less clear (I believe you can tell whenever I got off the tracks, so to speak.)

As usual, I apologize if the lenguage is "riddled" or confusing or just, you know, _bad._

Hope you enjoyed it, whoever you are.


End file.
